“The Weight”: The moment below this one had far more infectious energy, but this one edges it out with glowing spirit. To cap the memorial portion, an image of Levon Helm finishing the somber necrology, Elton John – while dashing off marvelous Leon Russell-esque runs – led an all-star cast through a terrifically soulful rendition of the Band classic, with Zac Brown leading each round of stacked chorus harmonies.

Mavis Staples is a treasure, Marcus Mumford tried to match her gospel growl and held his own, and Alabama Shakes’ Brittany Howard outdid ’em both on the “Crazy Chester” verse, nailing high notes the way Ms. Staples used to. With Brown and Mumford beaming on either side of her, the legend looked on approvingly, and for a moment a torch was passed. Then Sir Elton, who had also dedicated the rousing performance to lost ones at Sandy Hook, took it on home. A superb send-off.

Bruno Mars & Sting & Bob Marley: Earlier Justin Timberlake, in a spectacular return to the stage, had given Mars a run for his money, ratcheting up the retro-soul feel till it felt classic and fresh all at once. A tall order for Bruno to fill – but then he nails it with one mighty wail of the chorus from “Locked Out of Heaven,” so catchy the camera spotted Adele and Keith Urban side by side unabashedly singing along. Enter Sting, and unlike so many other mash-ups this night, the segue into “Walking on the Moon” was liquid smooth, like the two tracks were meant to mate.

As happened with Elton on his Ed Sheeran duet (see below, way below), the English icon had a hint of trouble adapting his soaring tone and more relaxed phrasing to Mars’ pulse-racing tune. Then again, he also walked out cold and straight into a pumping mix.

He slid seamlessly into his Police classic, and the whole ensemble really ignited on “Could You Be Loved,” Rihanna further asserting her vocal credentials and Marley sons Ziggy and Damian emerging all fired up, the latter toasting away with fury. Like “The Weight,” it was one of those crazy only-at-the-Grammys ideas that somehow worked beautifully. Why a Marley salute? When it’s one of few highlights that actually made it feel like a concert was taking place at Staples Center, why not?

Justin Timberlake: Is it really a comeback after just six years or so? Doesn’t matter: JT’s super-slick and spot-on two-song turn felt like it, and he knocked it clear out of the arena into the accompanying Target ad during the next commercial break – which also killed. The switch to sepia for “Suit & Tie” and the walk-up-from-the-crowd cameo from Jay-Z were simple but sharp touches that lifted the moment higher – and did I imagine it or did Timberlake slap Hova’s hiney on their way back to the main stage? The second song, “Pusherlove,” rife with rich, Prince-ly falsetto and Stevie Wonder chord changes, only whets the appetite more. Bet the Palladium after-show was fantastic.

Jack White: If he’d only done the Peacocks part for “Love Interruption,” with harmonizing partner Ruby Amanfu stealing some of the spotlight with some classic Tina Turner circa '69 phrasing, I’d still rave but probably rank it lower. If he’d only done the eruptive Buzzards bit – rocking out so monstrously, in such defiance of prevailing pop plasticity, that his amp was still buzzing when Katy Perry stepped up to present best new artist – well, I’d still rave but probably rank it lower. But he did both. Win-win. Also, the guitar-flinging finish may have been the coolest – and realest – moment all night.

Carrie Underwood: She’d rank this high for her vocals alone. Stripped-down even when the dynamic got built-up, she was note-perfect and sky-high powerful for both “Blown Away” and “Black Cadillacs.” But that riveting visual effect, an array of images drawn or projected upon her pop-art stately silver dress, was both wildly impressive and thematically on point. It lifted what would have been a merely memorable Grammy performance into one for the books.

Kelly Clarkson: You know, Rihanna really proved something Sunday night, ditching the dance moves and the overblown psychosexual what-not to bare her emotions vocally. She pulled it off convincingly. And then Ms. Clarkson stepped onto the satellite platform, effortlessly evoked just the right moods for the Patti Page staple “Tennessee Waltz” and Carole King’s “(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman,” reaching deep and scaling high on the latter. And with one expert flourish she made Rihanna look like an amateur.

Mumford & Sons: Spitfire spirit right from the start, with no gimmicks, no extra theatricality, just great earnest music. What was on TV is exactly what has wowed thousands of us at the Hollywood Bowl and Coachella and elsewhere. Straightforward and sublime.

The Black Keys & Dr. John & the Preservation Hall Jazz Band: “Lonely Boy” was ripping and raw, with punchy horns and wild style that had John Mayer and Katy Perry up and grooving and Dave Grohl cheering by the end. Bonus: Dr. John in full-blown gris-gris hoodoo-voodoo regalia – and glassy-eyed catatonia.

LL Cool J & Chuck D & Travis Barker & Tom Morello & Z-Trip: Hard-hitting way to close it out. Pretty thrilling to see Public Enemy’s fierce frontman barking out a refrain from “Welcome to the Terrordome” before whatever was left of a worldwide audience. LL holds his own, everyone contributes fine solos, and the “No Sleep Til Brooklyn” shout-out to MCA was a perfect touch.

Jay-Z: “I would like to thank the swap meet for his hat,” pointing to The-Dream’s Boyz N the Hood cap. I thought Clarkson’s acceptance speech was heartfelt and adorable, too. But this was the cleverest.

Prince: “The nominees for record of the year are.” Then: “And the winner is.” And out. Best presenter.

SOLID

Chick Corea & Stanley Clarke & Kenny Garrett: I get the purpose of the evening’s pace-keeping interludes, but I’d have sacked Juanes (great star, rough performance) and Hunter Hayes (like a deer in headlights) and given more time to this Dave Brubeck tribute, which was only starting to really take off when “Take Five” switched to “Blue Rondo a la Turk.” Must jazz always be sidelined?

Rihanna: “Here she is as you never seen her before,” declared LL Cool J, and he didn’t lie. Sparse, dramatic lighting. Steady droning undertow. Nothing about it ribald or overblown. Like Pink, she’s always been a nifty alterna-diva finding her own way; unlike Pink, she hasn’t much showed off what kinda pipes she’s packing. This helped show what she’s really capable of.

Miguel & Wiz Khalifa: An interlude that worked more than a lot of full-length turns. Yes, there were a few rough spots, but like Kelly C. says, Miguel’s drop-to-his-knees prowess is reason to sit up and take notice.

Maroon 5 & Alicia Keys: Her wail on “Girl on Fire” was perfect, Adam Levine’s harmonic addition to it flawlessly executed, they both looked fab and churned it all to a thumping finish. But M5’s “Daylight” portion was just fair and made for an awkward segue.

The Lumineers: I like ’em, and they were gracefully effective, but gee they’re just … cute. Sweet to see Melissa Etheridge singing along, though, just as it was endearing to spot Bonnie Raitt beaming approval when Mumford & Sons won album of the year.

Prince’s cane: Deserves its own freeze-frame.

Katy Perry: “And if you don’t win, don’t worry. I was never even nominated in this category (best new artist) – and I have my own eyelash line. Take that, Bon Iver.”

Frank Ocean: Depending how you want to read it, it’s perhaps significant for him to have sung “Forrest Gump,” and the cinema-wide simulator-screen trick was impressive indeed. But his vocal delivery was spotty (his whistling finish stuck in the mind more) and the D’Angelo-without-drums feel made it hard for the song to have much impact amid so many other standouts.

fun.: OK, the rain thing was kinda neat. Almost made me overlook that frontman Nate Ruess was pretty pitchy on his first few big notes and, though he remain melodic, more or less shouted the rest of ’em, sounding robust only when the rest of the band joined in. Mostly they seemed ordinary, and too often I caught myself thinking I was witnessing the second coming of Men at Work.

Miranda Lambert & Dierks Bentley: They barely connected during a mash-up of her “Over You” and his “Home.” With each other, I mean; they sounded fine on their own songs, just not the ones on which they swapped verses. Miranda, her voluptuousness tightly encased and encrusted in the same bling on her fingernails, stood almost stock-still the entire time and didn’t seem terribly confident about Dierks' words; Dierks, in turn, didn’t have much idea how to convey Miranda’s sentiments convincingly. And once they were harmonizing together, their entrances weren’t fully in sync.

Elton John & Ed Sheeran: Sir Reginald seemed a tad rough-throated throughout the young ginger’s tune “The A Team,” and during the second verse it almost seemed like he didn’t know the words. Nice harmonies, though, and I do love how Elton likes to lend his legend to spotlight burgeoning talent for an audience that might not otherwise care.

Taylor Swift: Very colorful, very Cirque du Soleil, and her twiggy stems have rarely looked better than when some miming dancer yanked away the white wrap that extended away from her coat. But for an opening moment, it didn’t wow. Last year, Jennifer Hudson had one of the most powerful starts of any Grammy ceremony. OK, so she had just-dead Whitney Houston to eulogize in song. But that doesn’t mean a less sorrowful start need be so pointless.

Taylor is underestimated when it comes to how well she puts across stage production – she’s not just a heartbroken and overgrown teenager, although she’s awfully eager to stretch that persona as far as it will go. In the middle of the show, this would have been a fairly eye-grabbing and well-sung diversion. As a pandering 8 p.m. lead-in, it was too juvenile and jumbled.

Juanes: He clearly had trouble with the chord changes to Elton’s “Your Song,” and he had unfortunate placement – just after “The Weight.” His fans would have been just as content had he simply presented.

Hunter Hayes: Poor kid sounded so nervous. A natural performer who has been regularly opening at Carrie Underwood’s arena sell-outs, he nonetheless seemed overwhelmed by the experience. Singing alone at the piano only made it seem more blatantly apparent.

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